CHAPTER VII.
PIKE'S STRANGE DREAM.
Kneeling behind their rocky barrier the two men silently peered into thedarkness down the hill. The great ledge of rock under which they werehiding concealed from their view the burning fires of the Indians downin the roadway to the east. But the reflection of the fire could beplainly seen on the rocks and trees on the north side of the Pass. Hereand there stray beams of light shot through the firs and cedars andstunted oaks that lay below them among the bowlders; and somewhere downamong these little trees, watchful Jim declared that he had seensomething white moving cautiously and stealthily to and fro. Pikeclosely questioned him, whispering his inquiries so as not to catch theears of Kate or the children, but Jim stoutly declared that he could notbe mistaken. He had marked it twice, moving from place to place, beforehe had quit his post and called to the corporal to come and verify forhimself what he was sure he had seen. For a few moments Pike thoughtthat it might be the Apache sentinel who had, possibly, left hisposition on the little hill across the road, and was seeking on his ownaccount some clue to the whereabouts of the fugitives from the camp.Pike had seen one or two Indians running up the road to where thesentinel was stationed in order to give him some of the plunder whichthey had taken from the wagon, and it was now so dark that he could nolonger see objects out on the plain, and, as he could hear approachinghorsemen just as well on this side of the road as on that, it was quitepossible that this Indian was the cause of Jim's warning.
Several minutes passed without either of them seeing anything. Thensuddenly Jim's hand was placed on the corporal's arm, and in a low,tremulous voice he whispered: "Look! Look!"
Following with his eyes the direction indicated by Jim's hand, Pikecould just see, probably two hundred or two hundred and fifty yards awaydown the hillside, something dirty white in color, very slowly and verystealthily creeping from one bowlder to another. The tops and crests ofthe trees and bowlders, as has been said, were tinged by the light ofthe fires still burning down in the roadway. The Indian yells weregradually ceasing as, one after another, seemingly overcome by theliquor that they had been drinking, they subsided into silence. A numberof them, however, still kept up their monotonous dance, varied every nowand then by a yell of triumph; but the uproar and racket was not to becompared with what had been going on during the torture to whichManuelito had been subjected before they had mercifully, though mosthorribly, put an end to his sufferings.
Nothing but the embers of the wagon and the unconsumed iron work, ofcourse, now remained in the road. Pike judged too that the ambulance hadbeen burned, and that nothing remained of that. But all thought as towhat was going on among the Indians in the Pass was now of littleaccount as compared with the immediate presence of this object belowhim. Could it be one of the Apaches? Could it be the sentinel from theother side? Its stealthy movements and the noiseless way in which itseemed to flit from rock to rock gave color to his supposition, and yetit appeared unnatural to Pike that any one of the Indians shouldseparate himself from his comrades and go on a still hunt in the dead ofthe night for traces of their hated foes.
"I cannot see it now," whispered Jim. "Where is he gone?"
"Behind that big rock that you see touched by the firelight down yonder.Our trail is just about half way. Look! There it is again! Nearer, too,by fifty yards. I wish he'd get on top of one of those bowlders wherethe light would strike him. Then we might make him out. By Jove! He'scoming up the hill. Whatever you do, don't fire. I'll tend to him."
With straining eyes they watched the strange, stealthy approach of themysterious object. Every now and then it would totally disappear fromsight and then, a moment or two afterwards, could again be dimly seen,crouching along beside some big rock or emerging behind the thickbranches of some stunted tree. Nearer it came until Pike was sure itmust have reached the "trail" they had made in their journeys up anddown the hill.
"I never saw an Apache that could move about in the dark as quickly asthat fellow. Jim, by Jimminy, I'll bet it's no Indian at all!"
"What is it, then?" muttered Jim, whose teeth would chatter a little. Hehad all a darkey's dread of "spooks" and was more afraid of a possibleghost than an actual Tonto.
"That's a lynx or a wild-cat, man! They have a dingy white coat to theirbacks, in places at least, and you've only stirred up some mighty smallgame. See here, Jim, you're getting nervous. I'll have to call Ned outhere with his little Ballard to take your place if you are goingto--There! What did I tell you?"
A heap of fresh fuel--probably dry cedar boughs--had just been thrown onthe coals by some of the determined dancers down in the road and a broadglare of firelight illumined the Pass. Again the rocks and trees down infront of the cave were brilliantly tinged, and, as though determined tohave a good look at these strange "goings on," there suddenly leapedfrom the darkness and appeared in view upon the flat top of one of thebiggest bowlders a little four-footed creature gazing with glowing eyesupon the scene below.
"There's your Indian, James, my boy," softly laughed Pike and, turning,he called back into the cave:
"Ned, are you asleep?"
"No," was the prompt answer. "Do you want me, Pike?"
"Come here and I'll show you a pretty shot for your Ballard."
Ned was at his side in an instant, bringing his little rifle with him,and the old soldier pointed down the hill.
"That's what Jim took for an Apache," he said.
"THAT'S WHAT JIM TOOK FOR AN APACHE."]
"So did you, Pike; you needn't try to make fun of me," was Jim's answer,half surly, half glad, because his fears were now removed.
"Is it a panther?" whispered Ned. "Oh!--can't I take a pop at him?"
"Not a shot. It would simply be telling those blackguards where we werehiding and spoil all the fun I expect to have in the morning. That's nopanther; they have a tawny hide; but it's the biggest catamount orwild-cat I ever set eyes on. Now go back to Kate, bundle up in yourblankets and keep warm and go to sleep. Jim and I stand guard to-night."
And, obediently, the boy crept away. Pike looked after him withmoistening eyes--all his jovial, half-laughing manner changing in aninstant.
"God bless the little man! He's as brave and plucky as a boy could be,and hasn't so much as whimpered once," muttered the ex-corporal tohimself. "What would I not give to know where his father was thisnight!"
Then he turned to Jim who had somewhat sulkily drawn away to the otherend of the little parapet.
"Come back, Jim, my boy. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," he said."You were perfectly right in keeping such close watch on everything andanything the least suspicious and I was wrong if I ridiculed it. Nowwe've got to divide the night between us. You lie down at once and go tosleep. I'll keep guard till one or half past; then you relieve me untildaybreak."
And Jim, nothing loth, crept back towards the glowing coals and rolledhimself in his heavy blanket, leaving the old corporal to his solitaryreflections, and these were of a character so gloomy, so full of anxietyand dread, that one only marvels how he was able to keep up, before Kateand the children, the appearance of jollity and confidence that hadmarked throughout this trying day his whole demeanor.
"I would give anything to know where the captain is to-night!" again hemuttered as his weary eyes gazed over the jagged hillside below him. TheIndian fires were waning again and the gleams of light on rock and treewere growing fainter and fainter. The sounds of savage revelry, too,were more subdued, though a hoarse, monotonous chant came up from below.As has been said, Pike's watch-tower and fortress was fully a quarter ofa mile south of the road and about a third of a mile from the abandonedcamp, but in the absolute silence that reigned in every other quarterthe sounds from the Apache war-dance in that clear mountain air werealmost distinctly audible. The awful groans and cries of Manuelito werestill ringing in his ears, and, to himself, the old soldier confessedthat his nerve was not a little tried by the fearful sights and soundsof the early evening. It was poor preparation for the fi
ght that he feltmorally certain would speedily follow the rising of the morrow's sun,but Pike had been through too many an Indian war and in too many tightplaces before to "lose his grip," as he expressed it, now.
"If I only had those poor little kids safe with their father nothingwould suit me better than to be here with four or five of the old'Troop' and let the whole of the Apache nation try to rout me out," hesaid to himself. "Even as it is, I'm bloodthirsty enough now, after whatI've seen and heard to-night, to be impatient for their attack. By gad!we've got a surprise in store for them if only Jim don't get stampeded."
Turning to listen for sounds from his little garrison, Pike coulddistinguish two that were audible and that prevailed above all or anyothers: Kate was tearfully moaning and praying aloud; Jim placidlysnoring.
"That nigger could lie down and go to sleep, by thunder, if he knew theworld was coming to an end in less than an hour. I'll have to watch heretill nearly dawn and have the strongest coffee I can brew all ready forhim or he'll be going to sleep on his post and letting those houndscrawl right upon us. Coffee's a good idea! I'll have some myself."
So saying the veteran stole back into the cave, noiselessly filled thebattered coffee-pot and set it on the coals, said a few reassuring wordsto Kate and begged her to remember him in her prayers, laughed at herdoleful and despairing reply and returned to his post.
All quiet. Even the wild-cat had disappeared and there was now no longerlight by which he could have detected the creature. Pike almost wishedhe hadn't gone, for, as he grimly said, the fellow might have been goodcompany and kept him from getting sleepy. Little by little the Indianchant was getting drowsy and the weird dancers, some of the youngerbraves, tired of the sport when there were neither admiring squaws orapproving old chiefs to look on. The chiefs in this case, of course, hadconsumed the greater portion of the whiskey and were now sleeping offits soporific effects, and the youngsters could only remain where theywere, keep watch and ward against surprise, and make no move in anydirection until their elders should be themselves again, unless thesudden coming of enemies should compel them to rouse their leaders fromtheir drunken slumbers and skip like so many goats for the highest partsof the mountain.
Looking at his watch as he sipped his tin of coffee Pike noticed that itwas now eleven o'clock. "Oh, if I only knew that all was well with thecaptain," he muttered. "And if I only knew where Sieber and the cavalrywere to-night."
Not until after two o'clock in the morning did the old soldier decidethat it was time to "turn over the command" and seek a little resthimself. He knew that he would not be half fit for the responsibilitiesof the coming day unless he could get a few hours' sleep, and as Jim hadnow been snoring uninterruptedly for over four hours, Pike concluded tocall him, give him some strong coffee and some sharp instructions, andput him "on post." It took no little shaking and kicking to rouse theboy, but presently he sat up, just as he had done at the ambulance, withthe yawning inquiry, "What's the matter?"
"Nearly half-past two, Jim, and your turn for guard. Stir out here, now.Douse your head with some of this cold water. It will freshen you up.Then I'll give you a good tin of coffee."
Jim obeyed, and after stumbling stupidly around a moment, and thenhaving a gourd or two of water dashed over his face and neck, hepronounced himself all right and proceeded to enjoy the coffee handedhim.
"Now, Jim," said Pike, "the wild-cat's gone, and no Apaches will be aptto prowl up here to-night, but I want you to keep the sharpest lookoutyou ever did in all your life--not only over their movements down in theroad, but for cavalry coming from the west. There's just no telling howsoon those fellows may be out from Verde, and when they come we want toknow it. The Indians have their sentries out, so they evidently expectthem. Watch them like a hawk, but don't give any false alarm or make anynoise. Let me sleep until it begins to get light, then call me. Now, canyou do it?"
"Of course I can, corporal, but where are you going to sleep?"
"Right here by you. I'll hand your blankets and mine out by the parapet,so that if you want me, all you have to do is put out your hand. If youare chilly, or get so towards daybreak, throw that saddle blanket overyour shoulders."
For a long time, despite fatigue and watching, Pike could not get tosleep. He lay there looking up at the stars shining in the clear heavensand thinking how peaceful, how far removed from strife or battle, theyseemed to be. Then he kept an eye on Jim, and was glad to note that thedarkey seemed alert and aware of his responsibilities, for every fewminutes he would creep out and peer around the shoulder of the ledgewhere he could get a better view of anything going on down in the road,and, after half an hour of this sort of thing, he reported to Pike thathe "reckoned the whole gang had gone to sleep down there." The oldtrooper assured him, however, that some must be on the alert and warnedhim to relax in no way his vigilance, and then at last wearied Natureasserted her rights, and the soldier fell asleep.
Four o'clock came,--five o'clock,--and there had been no sound frombelow. Then, far in the east the skies began to hoist their colors inhonor of the coming Day God, and rich crimson and purple soon blendedwith the richer gold, and all around the rocky fastness the pale, wanlight of the infant morn stole over rock and tree, and still old Pikeslept, but not the deep, restful slumber of three hours before. He wasdreaming, and his dreams were troubled, for his limbs were twitching; herolled over and moaned aloud; inarticulate sounds escaped from his lips;but still, as one laboring with nightmare, he could not wake--could notshake off the visions that oppressed him. In his sleep he saw, and sawbeyond possibility of doubt, that the Apaches were hurriedly rousingtheir comrades; that they were quickly picking up their rifles and thennimbly speeding up the rocks; that even as they came towards him up themountain side several of their number went crouching along towards theeast and eagerly watching the roadway through the Pass, and, followingtheir fierce eyes, he could see, winding up the gorge, coming at a trot,a troop of the longed-for cavalry--coming not from the west, as he hadexpected, but from the direction of the magnificent sunrise that flashedon their carbines and tinged the campaign hats with crimson. At theirhead rode two officers, and one, he knew at once, must be his oldcaptain, but why that bandage about his head? Why the rude sling inwhich his arm was carried? Plainly visible though they were to him, theApaches were completely hidden from the approaching troops. Two minutes'ride brought the leaders to the smouldering ruins of the baggage wagon,at sight of which, and the charred and unrecognizable body in theirmidst, his captain had groaned aloud, then forced his "broncho" up therocky path to where they had made their camp, and then, when he saw theruined ambulance and all the evidences of Apache triumph, he reeled inhis saddle and would have fallen headlong had not two stout troopersheld him while their young lieutenant thrust a flask of brandy betweenthe ashen lips; and then in his wild vision Pike saw them ride on and onup the road right beneath them--only a quarter of a mile away--neverheeding, never looking for him and his precious charges. He strove toshout: he screamed aloud, yet only a suffocated groan seemed to issuefrom his lips; he shouted to Jim to fire and so attract their attention,but there was no response; and then, in his agony, he started up, wideawake in an instant, and, hurling off his blankets, seized his rifle andsprang to his feet.
Broad daylight; sunbeams dancing through the trees; and there, doubledup at the back of the parapet, lay that scoundrel Jim--asleep on guard.One vehement kick and curse he gave him: then peered over the barrierdown the rocky hillside. God of heaven! what a sight met his eyes! TheApaches were almost on them.
ONE VEHEMENT KICK AND CURSE HE GAVE HIM.]